


Little Sister

by slashyrogue



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Channeling, Family Reunions, Gen, Ghosts, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 11:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17600387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyrogue/pseuds/slashyrogue
Summary: The minute he opened his eyes Hannibal knew Will was not present any longer.His face was softer, happier, and devoid of all the pain that plagued him day by day.“Hello, Mischa.”*A side story from the A Ghost Story universe that takes place during Chapter Eight*





	Little Sister

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Ghost Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842634) by [slashyrogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyrogue/pseuds/slashyrogue). 



The fear in Will's eyes should have been the first sign for Hannibal to stop but his anger at not being a source of protection kept him going. He wanted Will to be independent of Mischa's help but also need his at times. 

 

It was quite difficult to be jealous of one's own sister. 

 

Especially one who had been dead for so long. 

 

The minute he opened his eyes Hannibal knew Will was not present any longer.

 

His face was softer, happier, and devoid of all the pain that plagued him day by day.

 

“Hello, Mischa.”

 

He moved back and watched her look around the living room as if she’d never seen it before.

 

“It’s warm in here.”

 

“Do you miss being warm?” he asked, voice thickening with each word.

 

Mischa looked at him and smiled. “I miss you.”

 

“And I you.”

 

Hannibal smiled and held out his hand for her to take. Will’s skin felt colder, room temperature at the most, and he worried for a moment the effects this had on him.

 

“Will’s skin is cold.”

 

Mischa frowned at their joint hands. “I worry about Will.”

 

“As do I.”

 

The fear in her eyes was palpable, flooding his very senses, and when she threw herself at him for a hug he held on tightly. “The bad ones want to hurt him,” she whispered, “All of them. I can feel it when I’m there. I….I don’t like them.”

 

Hannibal ran his down her head. “I cannot be much help for him. Not like you can.”

 

Mischa lifted her head. “Will needs you, Hanni. You need him and he needs you. Kisses, naked things, and blood. He needs you for lots of things.”

 

“Sesuo, I….”

 

“You have to help!”

 

“There is not much I can do.”

 

She sat back on her legs, crossing her arms in childlike fury. “I love Will,” she murmured, a fresh tear falling down her face, “But I don’t want Will to be where I am. You have to protect him from the bad stuff. Especially the bad man. I want you to hurt him.”

 

Hannibal reached out and put his hand on her head.

 

“I promise you, sister. I will do everything I can to make Will’s father pay for what he’s done.”

 

Mischa launched herself at him again, her hands coming tight around his neck. She kissed his cheek and Hannibal closed his eyes.

 

“I knew you would help,” she whispered, sounding tired, “I told Will you would help.”

 

He felt her slump against his chest.

 

“Would you like me to tell you a story?”

 

Her laugh made his chest ache.

 

“Yes, Hanni. Tell me.”   


“This story is about a young man who thought he was alone and a little girl who helped him see he wasn’t.”

 

She sighed. “Is there a prince? I like princes.”

 

Hannibal smiled. “There is a prince yes. He’s cold and alone, just like the young man but they both learn that they belong together.”

 

“Do they dance together?”

 

He pulled her up into his lap and put his hand on Mischa’s back. “They will dance yes,” he promised, feeling Will’s body grow more lax in his arms, “But not yet.”

 

“I love you, Hanni.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and closed his. “I love you, Mischa.”

 

The last time they’d laid like this had been so long ago now, eons in the past that he hardly let himself remember. But now he could vividly remember the smell of her, freshly bathed and floral, and the warmth he’d felt then so close in each other’s arms.

 

Back then just a hug could chase away the bad men in their dreams.

 

“No more bad dreams,” he whispered, tears blurring his vision.

 

“Promise?” Mischa asked softly, her voice hardly there.

 

He held her tighter and let himself live in the delusion that Mischa could stay now with him forever.

 

“I promise.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
